Talkin' Trash: The Revised Edition 2003
by TheDeadPool
Summary: A rewrite of the Season 5 episode, "Talkin' Trash," with darker undertones and a Wheeler/Linka pairing.


Disclaimer:  I do not own any of the characters.  I am going to assume that those reading this already know the characters' powers and their idiosyncrasies.  In addition to naming Wheeler's parents, I have taken the liberty of giving Wheeler a first name and both Planeteers a last name.   

NOTE:  This story is a rewrite of the episode "Talkin' Trash."  The events for this particular story are to have taken place after such episodes as "Missing Linka," "A Perfect World," "You Bet Your Planet," and "Numbers Game."   

Los Angeles had just experienced one of the worst earthquakes in its history and the destruction was massive.  During the confusion, some people had panicked and chaos ensued.  Fortunately, the Planeteers arrived in time to quell what could have become a complete riot.  With the help of Captain Planet, people were saved and fires put out.  The objective was now to distribute relief supplies and help those in need. 

"Flirting at a time like this, Wheeler?" Linka remarked coyly.  She had reached into a box full of supplies at the very same time Wheeler had.  

"Come off it, Linka," Wheeler snapped, taking the Russian blonde by surprise.  "We've got a job to do, so let's just do it."  

Linka was somewhat shocked and dismayed.  "I was just… joking." 

The other Planeteers—Kwame, Gi and Ma-Ti—overheard the angry discourse and walked over to see what was wrong.  "What is the matter, my friend?" Kwame asked, fidgeting with his Earth ring.   

Wheeler gritted his teeth and slammed down a box.  "I got a letter from my mom.  She says my dad is sick; his liver's shot.  Big surprise there." 

"I never had a chance to know my father, Wheeler," Kwame offered.  "Take time to be with yours before it is too late." 

"You don't know my dad," Wheeler protested.  "It's not like we got along."

"Regardless, he's still your father," Ma-Ti countered.  

"Fine," Wheeler relented.  "I guess I will go." 

During the brief discussion, Gi had decided to remain behind with Linka.  "Are you okay?"

"Da, I am fine," Linka said almost absent-mindedly.  She had never seen Wheeler look so emotionally confused or upset. 

"Well… we've done all we can here," Gi said.  "Let's head out." 

The Planeteers boarded the Geo-Cruiser and strapped in as Kwame took the control yoke.  "I assume we'll be dropping you off in New York, right?"

Wheeler nodded.  "Yeah, that'll work fine." 

Ma-Ti, sensing Wheeler's obvious unease with the situation, resisted the temptation to use his Heart power on his American friend.  "Perhaps you could tell us why you and your father do not get along?"

"It's none of your business," Wheeler snapped.  

Ma-Ti shrugged and looked to Linka.  If anyone could get to the bottom of what was bothering Wheeler, he knew she could.  Linka, already very curious, leaned towards Wheeler.  "Whatever it is, we can help you," she offered.  

Wheeler looked at Linka and sighed.  "Linka, I know this is a strange request and you don't have to, but I was wondering if you could come with me."  

Linka let the offer sink in for a moment before responding.  "Of course I will come." 

++++++ 

After an exhaustive and eerily quiet flight, the Geo-Cruiser touched down in Brooklyn as the sun was setting. 

Both Linka and Wheeler stepped out and waved goodbye to the others.  "If you need us, just contact Ma-Ti," Kwame reminded them.  

"We will," Linka smiled and then turned to Wheeler.  "Where to now, Yankee?" 

"This way," Wheeler grunted and then looked around as they walked.  "Sorry, babe, but it's not the best side of town."

Linka pretended not to notice and just shrugged.  "It's okay."

Wheeler stopped as they approached an old apartment building and swallowed hard.  He could tell Linka wanted to ask him a million questions in regards to his unusual behavior.  "Linka, have you noticed I'm a little… nervous?"

"Now that you mention it…" Linka lied.  "What is wrong?"

Wheeler breathed deeply and much to his surprise, Linka clasped his ring hand with both of hers.  "Please," she said, "tell me." 

"Okay," Wheeler sighed, "you agreed to come with me here, you might as well know what you're getting into." 

Linka nodded as Wheeler continued.  "You see… it's not just that my dad and I don't get along.  He's an alcoholic and, to be blunt, one mean bastard.  When I was a kid, he'd blow up over the smallest things and then take out his frustration and anger on my mom and I."

"What did he do?" Linka asked, feeling a mixture of sympathy and anger brewing inside her.  

"Aside from saying things to us—and specifically me—that I'll never forget, he hit me a few times."

"Bozhe moy…" Linka gasped.  "Are you sure you want to do this??

"No," Wheeler responded.  "I'd like to see my mom and besides, maybe my dad's changed." 

They went into the building and rode the elevator to the third floor.  There, they got out and walked down the hallway to the fourth apartment on the left side.  Wheeler knocked twice and the door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman with hair darker than Wheeler's, but still red.  "Billy?  Oh you came—I'm so happy to see you!" 

As Wheeler and his mother hugged, Linka couldn't help but ask.  "Billy?" 

Before Wheeler could explain, his mother took over.  "Okay, his name's William, but when he was little we called Billy.  I still think of him as my little boy."  

"Mom…" Wheeler groaned. 

Linka chuckled and then lightly elbowed Wheeler.  

"Oh yeah," Wheeler said, slapping himself in the head.  "Mom, this is Linka." 

"So this is the Linka you've told me so much about over our very few phone conversations," Wheeler's mother exclaimed, making sure to emphasize how little Wheeler actually called home.  

Linka wondered what Wheeler had said about her, but she didn't have time to find out as Wheeler's mom hugged her as well.  "Come in, come in…"

"Thank you, Mrs…" Linka began and then realized she didn't even know Wheeler's last name.  It made sense when put in perspective as a Planeteer—there were no need for surnames on Hope Island or when fighting eco-villains; however, the fact that she lacked this bit of information made her feel somewhat guilty.  

"Connors," Wheeler's mother finished for Linka.  "I'm Bridget Connors—you may call me Bridget or Mrs. Connors, whichever you prefer." 

Linka smiled.  "Okay, Bridget."  

"Hey Mom," Wheeler began, "let's not go overboard in embarrassing me, okay?"

"I don't know what you mean," Bridget responded.  "Although, I'm sure Linka would love to see pictures of you as a little kid."  

"Oh absolutely!"

Wheeler began banging his head against a nearby wall as both women laughed at him.  "Come on, honey, its not that bad," Bridget said, trying to stifle her laughter.  

Linka and Wheeler took a seat at the kitchen table while Bridget went to the refrigerator.  "Would you two like something to drink?"

"I'll have a Coke," Wheeler replied.

"A Sprite is fine for me, thank you," Linka answered.  

As Bridget poured the drinks into their respective glasses and handed them to the two Planeteers, she said, "At least someone here has some manners."  

Wheeler rolled his eyes.  He was home five minutes and already his mother was on his case.  He decided to change the subject.  "Mom, where's Dad?"

Bridget sighed and sat down.  "He's in the den—asleep in front of the TV, as always." 

"He still has that recliner?"

"I don't think he'll ever get rid of it," Bridget sighed.  She then walked back to the refrigerator and asked, "Are either of you hungry?"  

"I'm not," Wheeler said.  Linka nodded in agreement as Wheeler continued.  "We bring food with us when we head out on missions.  We've been in far too many tight spots without any decent show."

That seemed to satisfy Wheeler's mother who then turned her attention to Linka.  "So, how long have you known my boy?"

Wheeler groaned as Linka smiled and patted him on the back.  "For about six years now—since we were both… um… what is the word?  Recited?" 

"Recruited," Wheeler said.  

"Thank you," Linka nodded.  "We were recruited by Gaia, the Spirit of the Earth to preserve our world and help fight against ecological disasters, as well as people who would try and pollute the environment." 

"Hey Bridge, who're you talking to in there?" Wheeler's dad asked, dragging himself into the kitchen and looking slightly worse for wear.  

"Our son and his girlfriend, Charlie," Bridget answered back.  "I don't suppose it would kill you to come here and talk with us, would it?"  

Wheeler glanced over at Linka when his mother mentioned her as his girlfriend.  To his surprise, Linka did nothing to refute the claim and merely listening to the conversation.  

"Girlfriend?" Charlie repeated.  "You mean that little tramp—what's her name—Trish?" 

Linka cocked an eyebrow at Wheeler.  "Trish?  Who is this Trish?" 

"Nobody," Wheeler said and saw the disbelieving look on the Russian blonde's face.  "She and I used to be something of an item back before I ever became a Planeteer.  That relationship is long over."

"She was a nice girl, though," Bridget mused.  "Too bad she's in a gang now." 

Wheeler was shocked.  "Trish?  In a gang?  That's not possible."  

"Didn't you see the cars banged up outside and the graffiti all over the walls?" Charlie demanded.  "That's her handiwork."  

Wheeler shook his head.  "It just doesn't seem like her." 

"What're you, blind and deaf or just plain stupid?" Charlie growled.  

"Charlie!" Bridget scolded.  "Billy—"

"William or Will," Charlie interjected.  "Billy is a boy's name." 

"Fine," Bridget said as she started again.  "Will came here to see you when I told him about your condition—the least you could do is attempt to act nice." 

Linka, who had been sitting there quietly and listening to the conversation, carefully spoke up.  "Mr. Connors, how do you know it is Trash who is doing these terrible things?"

"Who the hell is this?" 

"Dad!" 

"What?"

"Could you possibly be more rude?" Wheeler sighed.  

"I could try," Charlie said, rubbing his chin.  "Okay, I'm sorry for saying that, but really, who are you?" 

"My name is Linka and I—"

"Hold it," Charlie interrupted.  "Do something for me, okay?"

Not wanting to upset Wheeler's father and possibly incite an argument, Linka nodded.  "Okay, what is it you want me to do?"

"Say, 'the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.'" 

Linka looked at Charlie quizzically for a moment.  She couldn't figure out why he wanted her to recite a line from My Fair Lady.  "The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain." 

"Ah ha!" Charlie shouted, slamming his fist down on the table, surprising everyone there.  "I knew it!  I heard the accent and I told myself, 'Charlie, your one and only son couldn't be dating a commie,' but lo and behold, he is." 

"Someone kill me now," Wheeler said, covering his face.  

Up until this point, Linka had been controlling her temper, but this was an outrage.  She stood up to confront the middle-aged man.  "I will have you know that Russia is no longer a Communist nation and has not been for many years now and even if it were, it wouldn't mean anything!"  

"Oh yeah?" Charlie asked.  "How so?"

"Because… even if your son is a Capitalist Dog," Linka said, referring to Wheeler the same way she had during their first mission together, "he would be my Capitalist Dog and I love him, and to hell with politics!"  Linka then sat herself down in a huff, arms crossed along her chest.  Her words now just sinking in and feeling terribly embarrassed, Linka closed her eyes and wished she could turn invisible.     

Wheeler and his mother were in shock over both Linka's outburst and the fact that, for the first time in years, someone had told Charlie Connors off—to his face no less.  What struck Wheeler the most was that Linka had referred to him in a very possessive manner and even used the word, 'love."  

Although it only lasted for thirty seconds, the silence in the room seemed deafening.  Charlie spoke up.  "I like her."  

"What?" Linka was as shocked as anyone there.  "You just called me a – "

"Yeah, yeah," Charlie said, "I know what I called you, but you've got guts—for a Red, anyway."

Linka didn't know how to take that—it was half a compliment and half an insult.  She decided on the safest route.  "Thank you… I guess." 

"Maybe you'll do a little good with this bum here," Charlie quipped, pointing to Wheeler.  

Bridget scowled and spoke up before either Wheeler or Linka could.  "Charlie, why don't you go back to watching TV?" 

Wheeler's father grumbled and walked off into the den, violently plopping down in his worn recliner.  They could almost hear him mumbling about communists under his breath.  

"Yeah, thanks for inviting me, Mom," Wheeler angrily said.  "I needed this—really.  After all, what's better than my father degrading me? Oh, I know—him attacking Linka!" 

"Billy, you know how he is," Bridget said.  "He's not himself when he drinks and with his liver nearly gone… I think we should just humor me for the time being."  Bridget then excused herself and went into the den, supposedly to have a little chat with Charlie.  This left Wheeler and Linka alone for the first time they entered the apartment.  

"Hey babe, did you mean what you said?" Wheeler asked.  

Linka blushed and responded, "Mean what?  That you are a Capitalist Dog?" 

"No, no…" Wheeler laughed.  "I meant the part about you loving me." 

Linka smiled at the redhead.  "Maybe…"

Wheeler shook his head.  "You're going to torture me with this, aren't you?"

"I might," Linka snickered and then yawned.  "I guess I'm a little tired." 

Yeah," Wheeler nodded.  "Follow me." 

They walked down a short corridor and then opened a door to reveal what obviously once was a teenage boy's bedroom.  Wheeler leaned up against the door and grinned.  "My room—or it used to be, anyway.  I figure I'll take the couch tonight and you can sleep here."  

After entering his old room, Linka had thought for a moment that Wheeler was suggesting something.  Not that she would have been particularly against that course of action, but she felt it would've been wrong while in his parents' home.  "Are you sure you do not want this room?" she asked, already knowing the answer.  

"Nah," Wheeler replied.  "You take it—besides, in here you're at least relatively safe from my Dad's remarks."

"Thank you, Wheeler," Linka said, sitting down on the bed.  

"I really do want to apologize for my Dad," Wheeler said.  "He can act like a real idiot, but at least it seems his temper is getter better."

"It is okay, Wheeler," Linka replied.  "I have seen the affects of alcoholism first-hand in Russia."  

"Well… I guess this is goodnight," Wheeler began sheepishly.  

Linka inwardly giggled and walked up to Wheeler.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned up and gave him a kiss.  "Goodnight, Wheeler." 

Wheeler, still in a daze from the kiss, walked out of his room smiling.  As soon as he had left and closed the door behind him, Linka grinned and began looking around the room.  One side had a built-in desk with an old computer on it while the other side had a built-in shelving unit that was full of odd knick-knacks and CDs.  

Linka went over to Wheeler's CD collection.  She had no idea what sort of music Wheeler liked.  Having learned to play the piano at an early age, and later her prized electronic keyboard, music was something Linka valued.  She also felt it could show different sides of a person's personality.  Looking through the various albums, Linka found most of the bands were foreign to her—no surprise there; she was not a fan of most rock and roll—but a few of them she recognized.  The CDs were mostly hard rock or heavy metal, consisting of groups such as "Black Sabbath," "Iron Maiden," "KISS," and "Motley Crüe."  Linka was not surprised, however, to find that "Skyrunner" was not among Wheeler's collection.

Losing interest in the CDs, Linka decided that, as long as she was in Wheeler's old room, she would look through his desk drawers.  She momentarily felt a twinge of guilt, but her curiosity and urge to be nosy quickly won her over.  Going through the drawers, she found an assortment of items:  A report card, some small puzzle game, a toy that resembled a G.I. Joe action figure and a box full of pictures.  The box caught her eye and she hefted it onto the desk.  Opening the box, Linka saw what must have been hundreds of pictures of Wheeler, his family and some blonde girl.  Linka recalled the evening's conversation in which Trash was referred to as a "blonde tramp."  Looking closely at some of the photos, Linka decided the girl in them had to be Trish, only a lot younger than she would be today.  She studied the picture—and others like it—intently for a few minutes before returning the box to it's original position.    

Looking out the room's single window, Linka sighed.  The view was anything but great—she could see another apartment building, some parked cars, telephone poles and an alleyway.  Walking over to the bed, Linka was about to undress when she heard a commotion outside the window.  Quickly moving to the window, Linka saw some people about her age vandalizing a number of cars and spraying the buildings with graffiti.  She was about to let it go as she felt extremely tired, but then caught a glimpse of blonde hair on the one with a black leather jacket.  Following her gut instinct, Linka knew that was Trish and ran to where Wheeler was sleeping.  

Linka stopped in her tracks she saw him.  There was Wheeler, hanging half off the couch with a blanket that barely covered him and, to top it all off, snoring.  She found it cute in some perverse way.  Unfortunately, he had to wake up.  "Wheeler!  Wheeler, get up!" 

"What?  Who?  I didn't… oh…" Wheeler muttered incoherently as he awoke.  "What's wrong, Linka?" 

"Your neighborhood is being vandalized!" Linka exclaimed.  

Wheeler sat up and ran a hand through his hair.  "This is New York—you get used to it." 

Linka rolled her eyes in frustration.  "No, you do not 'get used to it,' and I think one of them is Trish." 

"How would you know?" Wheeler asked.  "It's not like you've ever met her." 

"No, but I heard something outside my window and saw a blonde girl with a gang smashing cars and spraying graffiti," Linka told him.  "We need to check it out, even if it is a false alarm." 

"Okay… okay…" Wheeler relented.  "Just let me leave a note for Mom so she doesn't think we skipped town or something."

Once outside, the two Planeteers snuck over to the location where Linka had seen the multiple acts of vandalism take place.  The area was now deserted except for one guy leaning up against a fence, smoking a cigarette.  "Hey, you two want to see a real good time?"

Wheeler decided to play along.  "Yeah, sure.  What do have?"

The punk ran through a diverse list of illegal drugs and the various prices associated with buying them on the street.  "So, you two interested or am I just wasting my time here?" 

"We are not interested in your—" Linka began but was cut off by Wheeler.  

"Her first time," Wheeler shrugged.  "She's a little nervous." 

The punk nodded.  "Always an adventure—so what do you want and how much?" 

"Actually, I was thinking more about a party," Wheeler suggested.  

"Sorry man, I don't do prostitution," the punk chuckled.  

"Um… no, I didn't mean it like that," Wheeler sighed.  "I meant a real party—where's the best place to really let loose around here?" 

"Well… let me think," the punk said, throwing his cigarette to the ground and rubbing it out.  "There's Club Raven about five or so blocks west of here.  It's not a huge club or very well policed, so pretty much anything goes."

"Thanks," Wheeler said.  

"Sure, no problem," the punk snorted and then muttered, "lousy waste of time cheapskate." 

As the two Planeteers began heading towards Club Raven, Linka looked at Wheeler.  "You have not done drugs, have you?"

"Come on babe," Wheeler laughed.  "What do I look like?  A fool?" 

Linka smirked which garnered a response from Wheeler.  "Don't answer that.  And besides, why would I do drugs? Especially after seeing what Bliss did to you and your cousin." 

"Da…" Linka said sadly.  "I was not accusing you of anything; I just wanted to know.  You seemed awfully comfortable talking to that drug pusher." 

"It's the area," Wheeler quipped.  "You get used to acting tough and putting up a front." 

Just as they got to the bouncer-less entrance of Club Raven, a young man was tossed out the window, shattering the glass.  "Are you alright?" Linka asked, kneeling down to check the man for injuries.  

"Oh yeah…" the man said.  He was obviously high on something and hadn't even felt the fall, let alone any cuts or bruises he might've picked up along the way.  "Just a rave; you know how they are." 

"Rave?" Wheeler repeated.  

"Yeah, where the hell have you been?" the man snapped angrily and reentered the club.

Well… ready to go in?" Wheeler asked, turning towards Linka.

Linka nodded an affirmative.  "Let's rock!" 

Wheeler stopped and stared at her.  "What did you just say?"

"Did I get my English wrong again?" Linka huffed.  

"No, you didn't… it just didn't sound like you, that's all," Wheeler chuckled.  

"I know how to have fun," Linka said defensively.  "I also wanted to fit in."

"Don't worry about it, babe," Wheeler told her as they entered the party scene.  

Once inside, the two Planeteers began subtly searching for a blonde in a black leather jacket.  Unfortunately, it seemed that black leather was something of a fetish for this particular club and its patrons.  "This is an… interesting place," Linka observed.  

"Hey, don't look at me," Wheeler shook his head.  "I've never been here before in my life."  

While talking to Linka, Wheeler bumped into a tall Latino man wearing a vest, torn blue jeans and a headband.  "Hey!  Watch it!" the large man growled.  

Wheeler, having never been extremely fond of confined spaces with lots of people, was already a little on edge.  "Look, I'm not looking for a… Frankie, is that you?"   

"Wheeler?" Frankie blinked.  "Wheeler!  Hey man, where've you been?" 

"Away," Wheeler answered.  "I've got this gig as a Planeteer." 

"What's a Planet Ear?" 

"No, no… a Planeteer, you know—like a Mouskateer, only with a lot less singing and dancing," Wheeler said, clapping his old friend on the back.  

"And who is this lovely vision of beauty?" Frankie asked, turning towards Linka.  "If this is your girlfriend, maybe I'll join up as a Planeteer too." 

"This is Linka, and—" Wheeler began but was cut off by Linka herself.  

"I am pleased to meet you, Frankie," Linka said, extending her hand.  Overwhelmed at seeing his friend again and looking to cop a feel, Frankie hugged Linka.  "He is very friendly, nyet?" Linka wheezed, feeling herself getting crushed.  

"Nyet," Wheeler coughed.  "He's just looking for a reason to squeeze your tush." 

With that, Linka pushed Frankie off and crossed her arms.  "Boys." 

Frankie laughed and Wheeler put his arm around Linka.  "So…" Wheeler started, "any sign of Trish these days?" 

Frankie shrugged.  "Yes and no.  I mean, she's around—probably here tonight—but she doesn't like to be called Trish anymore."

"So what does she call herself now?" Wheeler inquired.  

"Trash," a female voice spoke out.  The owner of the voice stepped out from behind the bar and, sure enough, it belonged to a blonde wearing a black leather jacket.  In addition to the jacket, she was also wearing a black military-style cap and black jeans along with black boots.  "Nice of you to drop by, Wheeler." 

"Hey Trish—"

"That's Trash," Trash corrected him.  "Trish was a helpless little girl.  Now, I can take care of myself." 

"Since when does taking care of yourself involve gangs?  Drugs?  Vandalism?" Wheeler questioned.  "Whatever happened to the Trish who loved to paint?"

"I told you, she's dead," Trash spat.  "Those paintings were never any good anyway."

"I thought they were—so did my Mom," Wheeler stated.  "She's still got some of them hanging up."

"You mean your father hasn't sold them for booze yet?" Trash asked.  

"Excuse me," Linka butted in, "but we are the Planeteers and—"

"Who gives a rat's ass?" Trash snickered.  "And who the hell are you?  Is this the slut you left me for, Wheeler?"

"I don't have to take that from you… you bitchy little tramp!" Linka angrily shot back.  Her outburst surprised Wheeler who looked at her as if she had a screw loose.    

"Oh yeah," Frankie hollered.  "Catfight!"

Although the thought of seeing Linka wrestle another woman turned him on, Wheeler knew he had to do something.  Linka, while many things, was not a fighter and Trash looked like she was ready to kill.  "Girls!  Ladies!" Wheeler called out, getting between the two women.  "We don't really want to do this, do we?" 

Both women looked as if they had barely registered Wheeler's plea to stop.  Linka, far more levelheaded than Trash at the moment, was the first to simmer down.  "Perhaps… perhaps you are right, Wheeler," she said, never taking her eyes off of Trash.  

Trash, meanwhile, used the opportunity to strike at Wheeler.  She drove her knee into his groin, which laid him flat out on the floor.  She laughed and then walked off, leaving Wheeler curled up on the ground in a fetal position.  

Linka had wanted to hurt Trash from the first moment they met and it took every ounce of will power to keep from doing so.  Instead, she kneeled down to where Wheeler was writhing in pain and cradled him.  "How much does that hurt?"

"A lot… oh… a lot…" Wheeler gasped.  With Linka's help, he steadied himself and stood up.  "Where'd she go?"

"I have no idea," Linka said warily and turned to Wheeler who looked like he was still in pain.  "I do not like her." 

"Yeah, well… she wasn't always like this," Wheeler said, taking a seat at the bar.  "I don't know about you, babe, but I'm ready to head home and crash." 

Linka nodded.  "That is probably a good idea."

As the couple prepared to leave, they didn't realize they were being watched.  In a corner, hidden beneath the shadows, was a rat-like humanoid.  His tail curled at the sight of Planeteers.  "I'd better tell the boss about this…" he hissed and hurried outside through the back and down into the sewer system.  

++++++

"What do you mean Planet-Pests are here?" Verninmous Skumm shouted, throttling his lackey.  "Why aren't they out saving some dung beetle or a rainforest?  Why is it always me?" 

"Boss…"

"What?"

"There's only two of them—how difficult can that be?" the human-sized rodent said.  "They can't even call Captain Planet!" 

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Skumm sighed.  "It never works like that though—they can be across the frickin' globe and all they have to do is point their rings at the sky and poof!  Here comes Captain Planet and there goes my business."  

"Okay, but what if you eliminate the two that are here?" 

"Why not?  Let's try that," Skumm mumbled as he tapped his claws on his laboratory table.  "Which ones are here?"

"The blonde and the redhead." 

"All right, now if I remember correctly," Skumm plotted, "then what we have here are the powers of Fire and Wind to contend with."  

"Wasn't that blonde the same one you got hooked on Bliss a few years ago?" the lackey asked.  

"You know, I think you're right," Skumm said, rubbing his hands together.  "Maybe we could make an addict out of her yet!" 

"Hey, what the hell kind of meeting place is this anyway?" Trash called out.  She was instructed to come alone, yet she had asked Frankie to lag behind in the event that Skumm double-crossed her.  

"It's called a sewer," Skumm pointed out.  "Where do you think everything goes when you flush?"

"That's just gross," Trash said, wrinkling her nose at the thought and apparent smell surrounding her.  

"So… have you done what I asked?" 

Trash nodded.  "We've been trashing the neighborhood real good.  Plenty of busted up cars, graffiti on the walls—we've even smashed up a few store fronts."  

"Good, good…" Skumm responded, approving of their work.  He then walked straight up to Trash.  "So why are you hanging out with those eco-brats?"

"Who?  Wheeler and that slut?" Trash coughed.  "We weren't hanging out.  They intruded on our party, we got into an argument and I kicked Wheeler in the nuts." 

"Good girl," Skumm smiled.  "Just remember, those two are trouble."

Trash rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, yeah.  Look, we're working for you, okay?  Don't sweat it." 

"Hopefully, I won't have to," Skumm replied.  "Now get moving—it'll be light out in a few hours." 

Trash merely stood there looking around.  "You know…" Trash began, "the right coat of paint, a few dozen odor-eaters, and you might actually have a place that's livable."

"Get out!" 

++++++ 

Linka awoke to the sun shining through her window.  She was amazed at how friendly Wheeler's neighborhood looked during the day and how threatening it appeared at night.  As she reached for her shorts, there was a knock at the door.  Linka quickly jumped onto the bed and pulled the covers up around her.  "Come in!" 

Bridget opened the door and walked in.  "Oh, I hope I didn't startle you." 

Linka shook her head.  "I thought you were Wheeler."

"You two stayed out late last night," Bridget observed.  "I hope you two weren't getting into any sort of trouble." 

"No more than usual," Linka replied. 

Bridget went to sit at the desk chair.  "Do you mind?"

"Please sit," Linka said, "it is your apartment." 

"Listen, Linka, I don't mean to pry, but I'd like to know a little more about you," Bridget said.  "For instance, where did you grow up, your family, how old you are, what you plan to do, and so on." 

Linka was taken aback.  She had always assumed that the girl's father performed the interrogation—not the boy's mother.  However, she could understand why Wheeler's mother would be interested in knowing these things, if for nothing else, out of concern for her son.  "Well, my full name is Linka Petrakova, and I grew up in a small mining town in Russia."

"So you were a Soviet," Bridget stated.  

Linka nodded.  "I was and I am not ashamed of it.  It was my country's way of life.  This does not mean I hate capitalistic countries like the United States.  For example, I am quite fond of American malls."

Bridget laughed.  "So, you like shopping?" 

"Da," Linka answered.  "It drives Wheeler mad when I bring him along." 

"You haven't tried to buy him clothing, have you?" Bridget asked.  "I remember doing that for him when he was young—he was, to say the least, a difficult child in that respect." 

"I know," Linka said, shaking her head.  "I once forced him into buying a new pair of jeans.  That was a nightmare." 

"So what about your family?"

"I never knew my mother and my father died when I was young," Linka told her.  "I was raised by my grandmother and my brother, Mishka."  

"I'm sorry about your parents." 

"It is okay," Linka sighed.  Truth be told, Linka did miss them—or at least her father—but she didn't want to get into a long discussion about that.  "As for your other questions, I am currently 22 years old and I would like to be either a doctor or a teacher some day.  I am not sure which, but I would like to help others.  That is why I am a Planeteer."

"Well, Linka, I think you make Billy very happy, so you're okay in my book," Bridget smiled.  "His father is another matter, but I wouldn't worry about him.  He's a grouch on a good day." 

"Thank you," Linka said and then shifted uncomfortably.  "Do you know where I could get a change of clothing?  I have been wearing this shirt for nearly two days now."   

"Well…" Bridget began as she opened Wheeler's closet, "there are shirts in here.  Sorry, but that's about it—at least T-shirts are gender neutral."  Bridget then left the room to give Linka some privacy.  

Linka stood up and went to the closet, amazed at how many T-shirts one person could have.  After rifling through a few different styles and colors, Linka choose a red shirt that said "Van Halen" on it.  She didn't know what a "Van Halen" was, but she liked the design and color.  She knew Wheeler's pants would fit her far too loosely, so she stuck with her shorts.   

Wheeler was already at the kitchen table tying his shoelaces by the time Linka sat down.  When he saw Linka's shirt, he was a little surprised.  "You like Van Halen?" 

"Who is this Van Halen?" Linka asked.

"Eh… rock group from the 80's," Wheeler answered as he checked his wallet for cash.  "So… you've been going through my closet, have you?"  

"Well I was not going to wear that shirt the entire time here," Linka stated as she pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail.  "You are going to change your clothes, aren't you?"

"Yeah, sure, don't worry," Wheeler replied.  "So what do you want to do today?"   

"I am thinking—no, that is not right," Linka said, catching herself on her English.  "I think we should check in with the others." 

"Okay, but do you think Ma-Ti will hear us from… what is that?"

"It's a cell phone."

"I know what a cell phone is," Wheeler said.  "Where did you get it?"

"I bought one some time ago," Linka shrugged.  "Everyone has one." 

"I don't have one…" Wheeler mumbled.  

Linka ignored Wheeler and dialed the number Ma-Ti had given her.  "Hello?  What do you mean, 'if I wish to try again?'"  Linka scowled.  

"Didn't work, huh?"

"What was your first clue?" Linka said angrily.  "I will dial again."  This time, the call went though.  

"Yeah what?" Ma-Ti grumbled, picking up the receiver at Hope Island.  

Ma-Ti's tone surprised Linka.  "Ma-Ti, are you all right?" 

"Oh hey, Linka, how're things in New York?" Ma-Ti asked.  

"Some things are good and some are not so good," Linka replied.  "Wheeler and I are dealing with vandals here, one of whom Wheeler knew a long time ago.  That is making it difficult for him."

"Oh… that can't be good," Ma-Ti agreed and then yelled into the background, "What are you doing?  You don't punt after a first down!" 

"Ma-Ti, what is going on there?" 

"Well, Kwame and I decided to play Madden 2003 against the computer, only he knows absolutely nothing about American Football," Ma-Ti sighed.  "I've watched a few games with Wheeler and he explained most of the rules to me, so I have a pretty good handle on what I'm doing." 

"I see…" Linka said, not really understanding as she knew even less about American Football than Kwame.  "Well, Wheeler and I need to get going.  If you need us, just call."

"Right," Ma-Ti answered.  "Same goes for you too."  

Linka said her goodbyes, closed up the phone and stuck it in her shorts pocket.  "So, are we eating here or going out for breakfast?" 

"Your call, babe," Wheeler yawned.  "I'm good either way."  

Not wanting to run into Wheeler's father again, Linka's decision was easy.  "I am in the mood to go out." 

++++++ 

After eating a filling breakfast at a nearby diner, the two Planeteers were ready to roll.  "I cannot believe what you ate," Linka said.  "Your cholesterol must be through the attic by now." 

"That's through the roof," Wheeler corrected her.  "And so what if I don't eat the healthiest things?  I'm young—I burn it up in no time." 

Linka decided that it was a waste of time to argue with Wheeler.  Instead, she sought to get back on task.  "So what are we doing about Trash?"

"What can we do?" Wheeler shrugged.  "Yeah, she's breaking the law, but it doesn't look like the police care and even if they did, it's a minor crime at best.  She'd be out doing it again in no time." 

"So we are just giving up?" Linka was surprised.  She never knew Wheeler to give up.  "Maybe you are depressed in seeing your girlfriend committing acts of vandalism."  

"Well, yeah, it is a shock," Wheeler acknowledged.  "But she's not my girlfriend."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really." 

"Then who is?"

"Who do you think, babe?" Wheeler grinned.  

"Gi?" Linka exclaimed, feigning shock and anger.  "How could you—all this time and you never told me?" 

Wheeler rolled his eyes and they both laughed.  "I'm glad you came along, Linka." 

"I am glad as well," Linka replied and then sat down on a park bench.  

Wheeler looked around.  "When did we get to a park?"

"I do not know," Linka responded.  "It is nice though—kids playing, water fountains, birds chirping…" 

 Wheeler sat down next to Linka and put an arm around her shoulders.  "Hey, maybe we should go sightseeing."

"That is a great idea," Linka answered.  "What should we see first?"

"Well… normally, I'd suggest the World Trade Center, but that's no longer an option," Wheeler thought out loud.  

While waiting for Wheeler to decide on a location, Linka played with her cell phone's settings.  "I've got it!" Wheeler announced.  "How about we go to the Statue of Liberty?"

"That sounds good, but did they not close it down to tourists after September 11th?" Linka questioned.  

"Damn," Wheeler sighed.  "You're right—I'd forgotten about that." 

"It is okay.  We will find something to do." Linka told him.  She then saw a horse-drawn carriage stop near them.  "How about that?"

"What?"

"That," Linka said pointing to the carriage," why don't we go for a ride?"

"Linka, that's for tourists," Wheeler complained.  

"What do you think I am, Yankee?" Linka laughed.  "Come on!"

"Oh yeah… forgot about that," Wheeler chuckled.  "Hey Linka!  Wait up!" 

++++++ 

Later that evening, Wheeler and Linka were still out on the town and beginning to enjoy the nightlife.  They found themselves at a legitimate club, dancing and having a drink or two.  "Okay, okay… I need to sit down," Wheeler said as his aching legs found a barstool.  "I can't keep up with you—who knew you could dance like that?"

"I thought you were in shape," Linka commented.  She sat down next to Wheeler and ordered a drink.  

Wheeler couldn't help but make a face.  "Linka, are you sure it's a good idea to be drinking?"

"It is not like I am getting drunk," Linka countered.  "Besides, this will only be my second drink of the night and neither of us are driving." 

"Yeah, well, one drink is the limit for me," Wheeler said.  

Linka was a little surprised to see Wheeler putting artificial limits on himself.  If any Planeteer loved to party, it was Wheeler.  She could only guess that after seeing what alcohol did to his father, Wheeler was afraid he too might become an alcoholic if given the chance.  Looking to change the subject, Linka grabbed Wheeler's arm.  "Come on Yankee, let's dance!" 

"What about your drink?" Wheeler asked, stretching his legs.  

Linka shrugged.  "I do not need it." 

"Well, you already paid for it."

"Only money." 

"Yeah, my money." 

"You are cute," Linka giggled.  "Now, let's dance!"

By calling Wheeler 'cute,' Linka knew she'd have an affect on him that would work two-fold.  One, he'd completely forget about the drink and two, she'd get him back on the dance floor.  "You think I'm cute?" Wheeler asked, beginning to dance with Linka.       

Linka shook her head in amusement.  "If I did not, would I have said it?" 

"No, I guess not," Wheeler smiled.  His smile quickly turned into a frown when he saw who entered the club.  "Linka, don't look behind you, but it's Trash and her entourage."

"Good," Linka grinned evilly.  "I want to use my ring on her."

"Linka!" 

"I am just joking," Linka replied and then added quietly, "mostly joking anyway."  

Wheeler watched Trash sit down at a corner table with some weird freak in a robe.  The bizarre and eccentric were not unusual for New York at night, but something about the situation bothered him.  He knew exactly what it was when he saw a slight flicker of a highly moveable appendage coming from behind the robed man.  "A tail?" 

"What?"

"A tail," Wheeler repeated.  "Okay, even though I said don't look, go ahead and look.  That man has a tail."

Linka squinted to see past the multicolored lighting and disco ball effects in the room.  "I see it—but who has a…"

"Verminous Skumm!" both Planeteers announced in unison.  

"Hey man, you don't like the party, don't attend—but don't call us names," some guy next to them slurred.  Drunk beyond all recognition, he collapsed onto the bar and passed out.      

"I can't believe she's dealing with Skumm," Wheeler fumed.  

Linka, for her part, was angry as well.  However, her anger stemmed from once being hooked, along with her cousin Boris, on a designer drug called Bliss.  She went through detoxification and survived; her cousin was nowhere near as lucky—he died from an overdose.  "Skumm will pay for Boris." 

Wheeler looked over at Linka.  "What did you say, babe?"

"Um… nothing," Linka flustered.  "I think we had better go over there." 

The ecological duo strode over to Trash's table where they were given anything but a friendly welcome.  "What do you two want?" Trash snapped.  "Didn't you get enough last time, Wheeler?  So how're the family jewels feeling?" 

Wheeler shook his head.  "Fine, no thanks to you."

"What are you doing with this… thing?" Linka asked.

"Listen bimbo, when I want your opinion, or even your advice, I'll rattle your cage," Trash retorted.  "Until then, why don't you go back to whatever Russian Bridal service you came from."  

Linka's hands balled into fists.  Wheeler generally knew better than to get in Linka's way when she was this angry, but blasting off 300 mile per hour gale force winds inside a club full of innocent people wouldn't help their cause.  "Linka… Linka…" Wheeler said, "let's stay calm, okay?" 

Linka turned away in a huff and refused to even acknowledge Trash's existence.  "You talk with her, Wheeler."    

Wheeler looked at Trash and then quickly pulled the robe back on the man sitting there with her.  To his surprise, it wasn't Skumm; however, it was one of Skumm's lackeys.  "You'll pay for this, Planet-Pest," the giant man-rodent scowled.  "When Mr. Skumm hears about this, you'll be nothing more than rat bait!" 

With that, the henchman scurried out one of the back exits.  "Did you see what he was?" Wheeler asked Trash.  "Those things are mutants, and I don't mean the X-Men kind!"

"Yeah, so?" Trash shrugged.  "Working for Skumm has been very beneficial for me and my gang.  That is, until you and Blondie here showed up."

"Incase you have not noticed, you are blonde as well," Linka pointed out.  

Trash's face contorted for a second and then looked directly at Wheeler.  "She's really a brunette," Wheeler informed.  

"Blonde in a bottle?" Linka laughed.  "So who is the bleach blonde bimbo now?" 

"Okay, is there a point to all of this?" Frankie asked, looking very confused.  "We're dealing with giant rats who can talk—that is simply not normal!" 

"Yeah, and what is normal, Frankie?" Trash sulked.  "Working nine-to-five or flipping burgers?" 

"More normal than dealing with Skumm," Wheeler said.  "Look, what is it he's offering you that's so important you'd destroy our old neighborhood?" 

"You mean besides power and respect?" Trash quipped.  "How about a hook-up whenever we need it; that a good enough reason for you, Planeteer?" 

"Hook-up?" Linka was oblivious to the meaning of this word.  "What does that mean?"

"It means drugs," Trash told her.  "We can get whatever we want, when we want."  

"But drugs… they are bad news!" Linka exclaimed.  "My cousin, Boris, died of a rug overdose and I was accidentally hooked on the same drug."  

"Oh yeah?" Trash inquired. "What kind?"

"Bliss." 

"That stuff?" Trash laughed.  "Your cousin must've been a real loser."  

For the second time that night, Linka felt anger surge through her entire body.  As she prepared her ring for use, Linka stopped and began crying.  Utterly embarrassed and confused, Linka ran from the scene.  Trash looked happy with herself until Wheeler grabbed her by the shirt.  "I don't know where Trish went, but it looks like she's dead," Wheeler fumed.  "Maybe Trash should join her."  With that, he released Trash and went running after Linka.  

"Well, that went great," Frankie frowned.  "Sometimes you can be a real bitch, Trish." 

"Shut up, Frankie," Trash growled.  As much as she didn't want to admit it, Trish really did feel guilty for everything she has done or said as Trash.  Unfortunately, the personality of Trash meant control, power and ultimately, respect, which was everything she didn't get as Trish.  "And for the umpteenth time, it's Trash."   

"Linka!  Linka!" Wheeler yelled, running about like a maniac through the club.  After some exhaustive searching, he found her sitting at an empty table with her face in her hands.  "Linka?" 

Linka looked up at Wheeler, her eyes red from crying.  "I-I am sorry, Wheeler," she said and then sniffed. 

"It's okay," Wheeler responded, taking a seat next to her.  "Here, use this" he offered.  

"Thank you," Linka said as she took the handkerchief.  "I did not meant to run off like that, but what she said about Boris and… and…" 

Wheeler put his arm around Linka.  "I know.  I can't believe she said that to you—I was about ready to fry her alive." 

Linka cracked a smile.  "In an odd way, Wheeler, that is really sweet." 

"You know me—all heart," Wheeler guffawed.     

Linka giggled and then sighed.  "Wheeler, we have to do something about Skumm."

"I know," Wheeler agreed.  "The problem is, we don't know where he's located." 

"I do," Frankie said, startling them from behind.

"Why would you help us?" Linka asked.  "You are Trash's right-hand man, nyet?" 

"Nyet?" Frankie repeated, looking at Wheeler.  

"It means 'no' in Russian," Wheeler explained.  

"Ah… okay," Frankie nodded.  "Well, then… 'Nyet.'  After the way she's been treating you—both of you—and what she and Skumm have been doing to our neighborhood, I feel like I need to do something." 

"That is fantastic, Frankie!" Linka beamed.  

"Yeah, that really is," Wheeler said.  "So… where is it?"

"Inside a sewer," Frankie informed them.  "When Trash would go meet with Skumm, I'd tag along behind her incase anything unexpected happened." 

"Um… well, the sewer system is pretty big here, Frankie," Wheeler frowned.  

"Right, but this one is right under Times Square." 

"You're kidding me." 

"No, believe it or not, it's true." 

"But they check those areas all the time, don't they?" 

"With all the construction work that's been going on at Ground Zero and the surrounding areas, the unions and even the city itself has been neglecting the sewers for some time now," Frankie shrugged.  

"Where is this Times Square?" Linka chimed in.  

Frankie was stunned.  "You don't know what Times Square is?" 

"I know what it is," Linka clarified, "I asked where it is." 

"We know where it is—don't worry, babe," Wheeler told her.  

"All right," Frankie grinned.  "Let's go!" 

++++++

Linka had read about Times Square its reputation for being exceedingly crowded, full of shops, strange people and huge advertisements, electronic or otherwise.  Now she got to actually see it in person, she was overwhelmed.  Nothing even close to this existed in Russia.  "Bozhe moy!" Linka whispered, more to herself than anyone else.  "This place looks like Las Vegas!" 

Frankie turned to Wheeler.  "She's been to Vegas?"

"We had a Planeteer mission that involved us going to Nevada once," Wheeler explained.  "I suggested we stop in at Las Vegas and have a little fun.  It was interesting." 

"How so?" 

"Well, Linka was okay—she mostly liked the shows," Wheeler began, "but Kwame and Ma-Ti really got into the gambling aspect of the place.  I think I recall seeing them at the poker tables somewhere around two in the morning." 

"I remember that," Linka piped up.  "Gi kept complaining about the energy and water needed to sustain the city and how it could have been used elsewhere for more 'constructive purposes.'  She was a real party pooper." 

"What about you, Wheeler?" Frankie asked.  "Did you get glued to the slots?" 

"Nah, I'm far too mature for that."  

"He was busy playing video games!" Linka laughed.  

"Hey!" Wheeler protested.  "I'll have you know that game was a state-of-the-art simulator fixed on a 720º rotational axis!" 

Linka shook her head and stopped.  "This is it?" 

Frankie nodded.  "Yup.  That manhole cover is our gateway to another dimension!" 

Both Planeteers stared at Frankie.  "No sense of drama," Frankie said, faking disgust. 

Wheeler hefted the circular metal plate to the side and jumped down, followed by Frankie and then Linka.  "Bozhe moy!" Linka screamed.  "Do you know what just floated past me?" 

Frankie considered it for a moment. "I don't think I want to know."

"Fire!" Wheeler whispered, ordering his ring to illuminate the area.  "Okay, which way?" 

"That way," Frankie instructed, pointing at a corridor to the left.  "So… how do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Fire, I mean," Frankie said.  "You just say it and it happens?"

"Nyet," Linka began, "we were given rings that can control an element of nature.  Mine is Wind; Wheeler's is Fire." 

"So what other powers are there?" Frankie, inquisitive as always, wanted to know.  "Is there a lightning ring or something?" 

Wheeler shook his head and then turned back to Frankie.  "There are several passages here—which one?"

"To the right," Frankie answered.  "So?  What about it?  What other rings are there?" 

Linka watched her footing and sighed.  Sometimes explaining who they are and what they do was more work than actually doing it.  "Kwame has the power of Earth; Gi controls Water, and Ma-Ti can do all sorts of things with the power of Heart."

"Since when has Heart been a naturally occurring element of nature?" Frankie wondered out loud.  

"Hey, that's what I've been saying for years," Wheeler spoke up.  "I mean—that has to really suck.  The rest of us can do all sorts of damage with our rings and what can Ma-Ti do?  Talk to his monkey?"

"Ignore him," Linka scolded.  "He's still upset about Ma-Ti pitching a shout out in one of his baseball video games."

"That's shut out," Wheeler corrected, "and I am not angry.  He just got lucky, that's all." 

"Okay, you see that boarded up entrance?" Frankie interrupted.  Wheeler and Linka both nodded.  "Good," Frankie continued, "because that's it.  We go through there and we should be face-to-face with Skumm." 

"Linka, if you will do the honors?" 

"With pleasure, Wheeler," Linka announced and held her ring up.  "Wind!"  

The result was a gust of extremely powerful wind that shattered the boards into pieces.  "Wow," Frankie admired.  "That's got to be a rush." 

All three stepped in through the hole and looked around.  The place was deserted with the exception of a few rats.  As they examined Skumm's makeshift laboratory, Linka came across a bag full of very memorable pills.  "Bozhe moy!" she shouted.  Linka knew her fear of Bliss was irrational in some sense, but she also feared a relapse if too near the potent drug.  "Keep those things away from me!"

"What?" Frankie looked around.  He grabbed the bag and looked at it.  "These look like the pills Trish has been spreading around."  

That surprised Wheeler.  "She didn't look like someone hopped up on Bliss—they generally resemble zombies." 

"Then she just hasn't been taking these," Frankie affirmed.  "She is on something, but she's very alert; paranoid almost." 

Linka leaned back on a bookcase.  "Anyone else disturbed by how quiet it is in here?" 

"Yeah, it's quiet…" Frankie began.

"…Too quiet." Wheeler finished.  

Linka rolled her eyes.  "I am not kidding!  Where is Skumm?"

"A good question, m'dear," a familiar voice called out.  The three turned to see a seven-foot tall rat-like humanoid in a tattered jumpsuit with a scarf covering his head and mouth.  "Well… well… Planet-Pests.  What do I need around here?  Human traps?"

"Um… B-Boss?" a henchman stammered.  "We were guarding the entrance for so long, we needed a little break." 

"A rat-nap?"

The guard nodded.  "That and a bite of cheese." 

Skumm rubbed his temples.  "This is giving me a headache." 

"Where're going to do more than that, Skumm!" Wheeler threatened.  "After we put you out of business, and force you to restore our neighborhood, you're heading for a nice little prison cell.  And hey, maybe they'll give you a wheel to run on."  

"Do I look like a hamster?" Skumm retorted.  "Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway.  Kill them and try not to make a mess."

Linka pointed her ring at the charging guards.  "Wind!" 

Miniature tornados tore through the hideout, slamming Skumm and his guards hard against a nearby wall.  "Get them!" Skumm commanded his incalculable legion of rodents.  "Tear them apart!"    

"We'd better beat it," Wheeler said and then aimed his ring at Skumm's laboratory setup.  "Fire!" 

Several intertwining beams of fire spewed forth and ignited the lab on fire.  "We need to get out of here!" Linka shouted.  "Once the fire reaches those chemicals, it will explode!" 

"Oh… that can't be good," Skumm noted.  "Abandon ship… Er… laboratory!" 

"Just like a rat…" Wheeler muttered.  

"Come on!" Frankie urged.  "This way!" 

The three friends ran out of the hideout and into the general sewer system just before the entire room exploded.  The noise was deafening, not to mention that the sewers stunk even worse than before and with the added heat from the explosion, the air was sweltering.  

"Everyone okay?" Wheeler checked.  

"Da," Linka answered.  "I am fine." 

"You can say that again, babe," Wheeler chuckled and turned to Frankie.  "You all right?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Frankie moaned.  "Let's get out of here." 

When they reached the ladder leading out of the sewer and up to street level, all three breathed a sigh of relief.  "Man," Wheeler exhaled, "I never thought New York air could smell so good." 

"Compared to that down there," Linka commented, "anything smells good.  Even Gi's cooking." 

Wheeler thought about that for a moment.  "Let's not go overboard, shall we?"   

"Is this what it's like for you all the time?" Frankie, looking worse for wear, asked.  

"Something like it," Wheeler said.  "We don't get a lot of vacation time." 

Linka looked around at the busy street and was puzzled.  "They did not hear it?  The explosion, I mean." 

"I guess not…" Frankie yawned.  "We were in pretty deep and with all the noise out here… well, you know how it is." 

"Yeah, I do," Wheeler agreed.  "Do you think we stopped him?" 

"I do not know," Linka sighed.  "I would like to think so, but somehow, I doubt it." 

"Oh no!" Frankie muttered, smacking himself in the head.  

"What?" 

"I remember Trish telling me that tonight she and the rest of the gang were going to receive a shipment of weapons from Skumm," Frankie divulged.  

"Where?" Wheeler demanded.  

"I-I don't remember," Frankie admitted.  "I can probably check with her tonight." 

"You had best do it before Skumm talks to her," Linka pointed out.  

"I will," Frankie said and whistled for a taxi.  "Damn.  This might take a while—never a taxi when you need one." 

"Allow me," Linka insisted as she stepped up to the curb.  Looking back and forth down the street, Linka stood with one hand on her hips and flipped her hair.  In no time flat there were several cabs lined up.  

"Hey, she comes in handy," Frankie grinned.  "You two want to come or do you have another way of getting around?"  

"We're fine," Wheeler said.  "Just get that info from Trish if you can."  

"Wait!" Linka exclaimed, handing Frankie a note with a string of numbers written on it.  "Here is my cell phone number—call it when you have something."    

"Will do," Frankie saluted.  

As the cab drove off, Wheeler looked over at Linka.  "So, you want to hoof it or catch a ride?" 

"It is a beautiful night," Linka smiled as she linked her right arm around Wheeler's left.  "Why not walk?" 

Wheeler, not wanting Linka to let go, readily agreed.  "Hey, I'm up for it." 

++++++

Having realized just how long a walk it would be from Times Square to Wheeler's neighborhood, Linka eventually decided that hailing a cab was a good idea.  Repeating her earlier performance, they had no trouble finding a suitable taxi.  Eventually arriving at their destination, Wheeler reluctantly paid the fee ("Do you see how much they charge?  It's criminal!"), and made their way to Wheeler's parents' apartment.  

"Do you think your parents are up?" Linka asked tiredly.  

"No idea, babe," Wheeler answered and then paused.  "You know, maybe we should go get a room at a hotel or something." 

"Wheeler…" Linka sighed.  "The whole reason originally we came here was for you to talk with your father.  As it is, we have been ignoring him."

"Okay, but don't tell me the extra privacy wouldn't be nice," Wheeler protested.  

"And what would we need this extra privacy for, you naughty Yankee boy?" Linka teased. 

Wheeler played with the snap on one of his jacket's pockets.  "Uh… well, we wouldn't—you know, unless you wanted to, that is… but we could!" 

Linka giggled.  She knew exactly what Wheeler was talking about, but enjoyed flustering him.  She decided to feign ignorance.  "Nyet, what do you mean?" 

Wheeler blushed slightly.  "W-Well, when a guy—that's me—and a girl—that's you—like each other, a lot that is, they um… well, you know… get together?" 

Linka didn't know how much longer she could keep from laughing.  "You mean, something like this?" Linka suggested, kissing him softly on the lips.

"That's good!" Wheeler approved, somewhat dazed.  "I like it."         

"Well then, let's go inside," Linka said.   

They unlocked the door leading into the apartment and noticed that the lights were off.  "Your parents must be asleep," Linka commented.  

"Thank God…" Wheeler said under his breath.  "Hey Linka, you need any company tonight?  Someone to keep you warm?" 

"Not in your parents' apartment, Wheeler," Linka scolded and then added thoughtfully, "Maybe we should get a hotel room…"

"What?"

"Nothing," Linka quickly replied and then kissed Wheeler again.  "Goodnight, Wheeler." 

"Goodnight, babe," Wheeler responded, somewhat less than enthusiastic about the sleeping arrangements.  

As Linka was about to undo her ponytail, her cell phone rang to life.  Quickly grabbing the annoying little device, she flipped it open.  "Hello?" 

"Linka?"

"Da…?"

"It's me, Frankie,"

Linka chided herself silently.  How could she forget that he was supposed to call?  "What did you find out?" 

"The meeting place is at a nearby construction site," Frankie informed her.  "The building is practically finished, so it looks like the deal is going down on the roof, if you can believe it."  

"Da, I can believe it," Linka replied.  Where is this place?" 

Frankie fed her the street address.  "Thank you, Frankie," Linka said.  "I will get Wheeler and meet you there." 

"Hey, no problem," Frankie quipped.  

After she said goodbye, Linka ran out to Wheeler.  Once again, he had fallen asleep almost immediately and looked rather uncomfortable on the couch.  She shook him gently, hoping that he wouldn't jump up and somehow hurt himself.

++++++  

Once up and alert, the two headed out to the address Frankie gave them.  Fortunately, the construction site was close by and within walking distance.  "Wheeler, look!" Linka whispered.  

On the top of the building's roof, as Frankie had described, was Skumm's helicopter.  "How do we get up there?" Wheeler frowned, looking around for a ladder or portable elevator.  He then saw a tall set of scaffolding assembled near the rear.  "They we go!" 

"What? That?"

Wheeler began climbing up the scaffolding and looked down at Linka.  "It should be safe enough."  

"Chyort voz'mi," Linka silently cursed and started climbing after Wheeler.   

Making their way up the scaffolding, the two Planeteers arrived in time to witness Skumm literally handing Trash and her gang military-grade weaponry.  Most of the weapons handed to them were of the sub-machine gun variety, such as the H&K MP5 or IMI Uzi, with a few handguns thrown in, like the Beretta 92B, Glock 18 and Colt M1911.  

Trash was thrilled.  "This is some serious hardware!"

"No shit," Skumm replied.  "I assume all of you have shot a gun before?" 

A few nodded their heads while the majority admitted to only using a gun in video games.  "Okay…" Skumm sighed, "time for a quick lesson." 

As Skumm went over the basics of precision firearm use, the two Planeteers snuck closer.  "What? No M16 or AK-47?" Wheeler sarcastically noted.  

Linka, having practically no knowledge of guns except for the fact she severely disliked them, ignored Wheeler's comment.  "How do we stop this?" she whispered.  

Wheeler shook his head.  "No idea, babe.  Hey—there's Frankie." 

Frankie, to his credit, didn't particularly enjoy the feeling of cold hard steel in his hands as he slapped the clip into his Glock.  "Is this really necessary?" he questioned.  

"For everyday life?  Probably not," Skumm chuckled.  "For our intentions, however, these weapons will be your means of taking control of the streets and when needed, fighting the law." 

Skumm then paused and looked closely at Frankie, who began backing away.  Hey… weren't you with those Planet-Punks when they torched my lab?" 

"Ready?" Wheeler asked, preparing for action.  

Linka stared at him incredulously.  "Ready for what?" 

"We need to hit now and hit hard," Wheeler told her.  

"Bozhe moy…" Linka groaned.  "More silly cowboy hero antics." 

"Now!" Wheeler shouted, much to the surprise of everyone involved.  "Okay Skumm, one wrong move and I blow up your ride." 

"Maybe all that sun has addled your brain, firebug," Skumm taunted, "but the last time I checked, my side has the guns."  

"Wind!"  

Linka's blast of cold air knocked Skumm and Trash's gang to the ground.  "Now Wheeler!" 

"You don't have to tell me twice, babe!"  Wheeler bellowed.  "Fire!"  The flame spewed forth by Wheeler's ring proceeded to melt several of the more powerful guns to slag.  

"That's it!" Skumm growled and hopped into his helicopter.  Taking off and hovering about fifty feet above the roof, Skumm took aim with his cannons.  "Please… please… just die for once!" 

The chopper's cannons roared to life, sending specially mixed balls of flaming pollution at everyone on the roof.  "Stand back!" Wheeler ordered and raised his ring to the sky.  "Fire!" 

Calling upon his experience as a Planeteer and the many hours he logged in front of the screen playing Duck Hunt, Wheeler's fiery blasts connected with the oncoming onslaught, detonating the sludge balls mid-air.

"H-How did you two do that?" Trash asked, picking herself up.   

"One of the many benefits to being a Planeteer," Wheeler smiled smugly.  

Skumm screamed in fury.  "Damn you Planeteers!"

"Nyet, Skumm," Linka said.  "Damn you.  Wind!"  Calling once again upon her ring's ability to control and manipulate air molecules, Linka hit Skumm's helicopter with a concentrated blast of wind.  The result was the complete failure of all internal and external systems aboard Skumm's machine, sending the craft careening downward.  

Everyone on the roof ran to the edge as they saw Skumm's helicopter crash into a nearby fountain, severely damaging the machine, but fortunately for Skumm, it didn't explode.  Sensing this was his opportunity to escape, Skumm hightailed it out of view and scurried off into the sewers.  

"Well… that's that," Frankie declared, popping his ammo clip out and tossing his gun to the ground.  "I don't know about the rest of you, but I could go for a good night's sleep."  

The other gang members mumbled their agreement with Frankie as they unloaded their weaponry and threw their guns down.  Trash was the last to drop her weapon and hung her head.  "Wheeler… I-I… I'm sorry." 

Wheeler crossed his arms and waited for an explanation as Trash's eyes began to tear.  "After you left, I felt lost," Trash began, "and I guess I didn't know what to do—my grades in school started slipping, and all I wanted some sort of control over my life.  I guess that eventually led to violence and drugs… when I found Skumm, he promised me everything I had been looking for."  

"Lies are what Skumm deals in," Linka said sadly.  

"I know that now," Trash admitted and walked close to Wheeler.  "Can you forgive me?" 

"I… uh…" Wheeler stammered and then saw Linka nod her head.  "Yeah, sure… you just had a real rough time; fell in with some bad people."  Trash, happy to hear that Wheeler held no grudge against her, hugged him, which resulted in Linka scowling at him.  "You have a lot to make up for though—what you and your gang have done to our neighborhood, for instance."  

"Don't worry, Wheeler." Trash said.  "We'll fix it, right guys?"

Her gang nodded their approval with a "hell yeah" or two included.  Finally, Frankie walked up to Trash with a question in mind.  "So… now that we're out of the vandalism business," he said, meeting with a slight chuckle from the surrounding crowd, "what do we call you?"

Trash thought for a moment before responding and smiled.  "Call me Trish."          

++++++

Two days later, after a short rest and a brief shopping trip, Wheeler and Linka were recounting the details of their adventure to Wheeler's parents, who as it turned out, proved to be a rapt audience.  After a detailed explanation of who Verminous Skumm was and the problems that had plagued Trish, his parents were amazed that he and Linka had come out unscathed.      

"We're Planeteers," Wheeler said, beating his chest.  "We live for this stuff."

Linka rolled her eyes, but laughed nonetheless.  "I kept an eye on him." 

"Thank you," Bridget mouthed to Linka.  

"Well… I guess we'd better get going," Wheeler said to his parents.  

"Please, visit more often," Bridget pleaded, hugging her son.  She then turned to Linka and hugged her.  "The same goes for you too, okay?"

"Da, I will." 

Charlie cleared his throat and stepped up to both Wheeler and Linka.  "Considering the effort you two made in helping this community," he started, "and the fact that Trish and her old gang are actually cleaning up the neighborhood now instead of wrecking it… well, I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you, Will.  You did a good job."  

Arguably the nicest thing he had ever heard his father say to him, Wheeler was speechless.  "T-Thanks, Dad." 

Charlie then turned to face Linka.  "I… um… just wanted to apologize for the way I treated you, Linka.  You're not a dirty commie."  

It was painfully obvious that Wheeler's father was not a man used to admitting his faults in any situation, so Linka decided to accept his apology wholeheartedly.  "Thank you, Mr. Connors," Linka replied.  

"Okay, well, we really need to go," Wheeler urged.  "The Geo-Cruiser should be by any moment now."

"Hold on one second," Linka hollered as she ran into her room.  When Linka came back out, she was carrying two large shopping bags full of various items.  "Now we can go." 

"What the…?" Wheeler was stunned.  "How much did you buy?"   

"Only some souvenirs," Linka shrugged.  "And some clothing… and a pair of shoes…" 

"Fine!  I don't want to know!" Wheeler retorted.  He then paused as a thought came to him.  "How did you pay for this?" 

A look of guilt temporarily washed over Linka's face as she clasped her arms behind her back.  "Well…"

"Yeah?"

"I used your credit card." 

Wheeler groaned as his parents laughed.  "Okay, you know what?  This was like a vacation, so I don't care."

"Then how about I go—"

"No!" Wheeler shouted, regaining his composure as he took the bags from Linka.  "No, no… we need to get going." 

After saying their goodbyes again, Wheeler and Linka walked down to the street where the Geo-Cruiser was already waiting for them.  Kwame was in the pilot's seat with Gi as co-pilot; Ma-Ti was chasing after Succhi, who had apparently decided that it would be entertaining to create some havoc upon landing.  "I told you that monkey's nuts," Wheeler whispered to Linka.  

"So you did," Linka chuckled.  

"How was your trip?" Kwame asked as the two climbed in and strapped their seatbelts together.  

"It was… eventful," Linka smiled and kissed Wheeler on the cheek.  

Choosing to ignore what she called 'unwanted public displays of affection,' Gi leaned back in her seat.  "I wish I could've visited New York—I've wanted to see a Broadway show for years." 

"Succhi!  No, stop it!" 

Wheeler craned his neck to look behind him.  He saw Ma-Ti attempting to catch his pet monkey and failing miserably.  A crude joke immediately came to mind, but in the spirit of the moment, Wheeler decided to leave it well enough alone.  "What's their deal?" 

"I don't know," Gi shrugged.  "I think Succhi's been upset ever since Kwame and Ma-Ti started their non-stop Super Bowl on their Playstation."  

"Playstation 2," Kwame corrected while starting the golden plane's engines.  "I have been kicking his ass all over the field!" 

Both Linka and Wheeler blinked at the un-Kwame-like statement.  

"Okay, so I lost one or two games—"

"Three games!" Ma-Ti yelled and then pounced on Succhi.  "Got you!" 

"Okay, three games," Kwame grudgingly admitted.  "Are we ready to jet?" 

"I'm all set," Gi announced.  

Kwame waited until he got the 'thumbs-up,' from the rest of the Planeteers and then took off into the sky.  

"I can't wait to get some shut-eye," Wheeler yawned and looked at Linka.  "Maybe you slept well at my parents' place, babe, but that couch was murdering on my back." 

"Do not worry, Wheeler," Ma-Ti said.  "Things have been quiet lately." 

As if on cue, the ghostly visage of Gaia, the Spirit of Earth, appeared.  "Planeteers, there is an eco-disaster in the Canada—you must hurry!" 

"Quiet, huh?" Wheeler glared at Ma-Ti.  

"Come on, Wheeler!" Linka smirked, snuggling close to him.  "Let's go!"   

Wheeler closed his eyes and sighed.  "Never a moment's rest…"

THE END


End file.
